Arthur at Mirkwood's Edge
by ChocolatteKitty-Kat
Summary: King Arthur has been sweeping across the east, wiping out his enemies, but has now arrived at the border of Mirkwood. Just as he is about to enter the forest, something draws him back. Based on The Fall of Arthur by J.R.R. Tolkien.


**A/N: I got the idea for this story while reading Tolkien's poem** _ **The Fall of Arthur**_ **, which is about, you guessed it, the fall of King Arthur. The story begins with Arthur and his army sweeping eastward in an attempt to wipe out the pagans that have plagued the shores of Britain, and finally arriving at Mirkwood. So this baby was born. I don't really know what category to put it in, as for some reason none of the big Arthurian Legends have categories on FFNet... By which I mean** _ **Le Morte D'Arthur**_ **or** _ **The Once and Future King**_ **.**

 **Anyways, I highly recommend** _ **The Fall of Arthur,**_ **especially if you love Arthurian legends, Tolkien/the Lord of the Rings/the Hobbit, medieval poetry (such as** _ **Beowulf**_ **and** _ **Sir Gawain and the Green Knight**_ **), or are just looking for a good read. Enjoy the story!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Arthurian characters, Legolas, Mirkwood, Tauriel, or Thranduil. Or the setting for the story. Also, Cradoc, Arthur, and Gawain's speeches at the end are only my paraphrases of Tolkien's (much more beautiful) poetry, and also are not mine. Thank you!**

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

In the trees on the edge of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf prowled. Through narrowed, ice-blue eyes he watched the army gathered on the edge of the forest. The elves had received word of the army's approach several days earlier, when their scouts had first encountered it. Since its arrival at the forest's border, it had been kept under constant watch. Now, Legolas waited, as had the other sentries before him, for these strange men to make their move.

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

Gawain stood on the edge of the camp and stared into the trees. He had an uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched, but who—or what—ever lived inside that forest was certainly not someone he wanted to meet, especially on a night as dark and stormy as this. With a shudder, he turned and walked into the camp, the wind whipping his long cloak around his legs and his fiery-red curls around his face.

When he reached the tent of his uncle, Gawain ducked inside, not bothering to announce his presence. Arthur sat cross-legged on the ground, his cloak over his shoulders and pooled around him, Excalibur set across his thighs as he stared off into the distance. He did not acknowledge his nephew's entrance, and Gawain stood uncertainly in the doorway.

Flickering firelight penetrated the canvas walls of the tent, illuminating its occupants with dull orange light. In the dim glow, Arthur looked very old and tired. His fair hair was tinged with grey that caught the light and shone like silver, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. Faint lines and wrinkles creased his face, around his eyes and on his forehead especially. The appearance of his uncle's age wore heavily on Gawain's heart; he knew these physical signs had not been there mere months previous, before the treachery of Lancelot and Guinevere had been revealed.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Arthur said softly, making Gawain jump guiltily.

"I did not wish to disturb you, my lord," Gawain replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the ground in front of Arthur.

"Gawain, I have been telling you since you arrived at my court so many years ago to stop calling me 'lord'," Arthur smiled. "I am your uncle, not only your king."

Gawain smiled in return. "Of course, my lord."

"What did you see in the forest?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing," Gawain scowled. "Yet I know that someone, or something, is there. I feel them watching us even now."

"I feel it as well," Arthur nodded.

"Whatever lives here cannot be natural," Gawain's frown deepened. "Do you think we have a chance to defeat what lies in that forest?"

"If I am honest, I do not know," Arthur admitted. "I have such faith in our men, yet if the inhabitants of this forest have the power of the supernatural… It will take a miracle to vanquish them. They will put up a greater fight than any enemy we have encountered thus far, of this I am sure."

Gawain nodded solemnly. "I fear you are right, and for this reason they will defeat us."

Arthur sighed and rose to his feet. "Then we must pray, all of us, for the Lord's help in overcoming these heathens."

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

"What are they doing?" a voice whispered at Legolas's elbow.

"Sleeping," the fair-haired elvish prince scoffed.

"Do you think they will attack?" Tauriel asked, peering out through the foliage at the camp spread across the low rolling hills around the edge of the forest. Frost was thick on the ground, fires burned bright throughout the camp, and what few men she could see shivered and stamped their feet as breath rose in clouds of steam from their lips.

"I do not know," Legolas replied.

"Will your father attack them?" Tauriel asked.

"My father, command us to attack?" Legolas sneered. "Not in this age." His gaze hardened as he stared out at the camp. "He has grown soft and cowardly. He thinks only of hiding from the world and defending the citadel from the creatures of the wood. No, we will not attack."

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

The next morning, Gawain woke early to find that he could no longer feel his fingers or toes. Cursing the wicked cold of this land, he left his tent, cloak wrapped tightly around himself, in search of a fire. He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together as he walked in an effort to return blood to his extremities. A fire was not hard to find, but a place by one was. Many of the men in the camp had also woken early and were clustered around flames that didn't give off nearly enough heat to warm them all.

"Gawain!" he turned to find Arthur striding towards him, cheeks red with cold and eyes sparkling in the sun that had been absent for days. "Come with me," the king said, moving past Gawain towards the edge of the camp.

The redhead sighed and followed his uncle. Arthur stopped at the camp's perimeter and scanned the treeline with his eyes. "What is it?" Gawain asked, coming to a halt beside the king.

"We're moving out today," Arthur said firmly, continuing to stare into the forest.

"Into the forest?" Gawain hadn't realized that he was afraid of that prospect until Arthur suggested it.

"Yes," Arthur nodded decisively. "We can't wait out here forever."

Gawain shrugged. "Very well, my lord."

Arthur glanced at him. "Spread the word. I want to be on the move in an hour."

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

Legolas glared at the fair-haired, richly-dressed man who stood just outside the foreigners' camp and stared thoughtfully into the trees. "They're moving," he said.

"I see," she nodded. "Do you think they'll come this way?"

"I have no doubt," Legolas scowled. He turned and ran into the forest on light feet. The King of Mirkwood would need to hear the news.

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

Gawain looked around. For such a big army, they had gotten packed up and ready to move out in a remarkably short amount of time. Arthur had mounted his horse and was riding through the ranks; Gawain mounted Gringolet and joined his uncle as he rode past.

"We are ready to move on, my lord," Gawain informed the king as they rode.

"Excellent," Arthur nodded. The sound of galloping horse hooves from behind them made both men turn. They saw a horse racing through the ranks of men, heading straight for them. It drew up before them, and the rider slid to the ground, bowing hastily to the king.

"King Arthur! I have need to speak to you!" the rider exclaimed, panting for breath.

Arthur dismounted and handed his horse's reins to Gawain. "Cradoc, my friend!" he rested a hand on the rider's shoulder. "What brings you with such haste to these lands?"

"My lord, you must return to Britain," the man gasped. "You have been gone for too long. While you have waged war in these lands to the east, a hundred Viking chieftains have assaulted Britain's shores. They have swarmed our unguarded shores, under black banners and preceded by vicious winds. York is under siege, Lincoln has been lost, and they have burned everything from the coast to Kent. I have ridden as quickly as I could, stopping as little as possible, to inform you of this, and one more thing: your nephew, Mordred, has betrayed you! He has lied; he did not intend to keep your kingdom safe. Instead, he gives refuge to your enemies and allows them to pillage the land. He has coveted the crown that is not his, and tries to overthrow your divine right! You must come west with me!"

Through Cradoc's speech, Arthur's face had drained of color. Now he stood, stunned, and stared at the man in front of him. Finally, he spoke: "Thank you, my friend. Find yourself some food; we will return to Britain immediately."

Cradoc bowed and turned away, leading his horse behind him.

Gawain dismounted and moved to stand beside his uncle. "What are you thinking?"

Arthur sighed heavily. "I miss Lancelot," he admitted. "We will note the absence of his and his kinsmen's swords in the battle to come. I think it would be best to send word immediately to Ban's folk, begging them to join us again to fight Mordred. We will need a powerful army to oppose this treason."

Gawain shook his head. "I do not think that Ban's kin are on Mordred's side, but I do not think that they will return to your side so easily. If Lancelot is truly your friend after all that is happened, let him make the first move: wait until he and his family offer their swords to your cause. It would be better to move with a faithful few than a tenuous many. Why do we need to fill our ranks with those of questionable loyalty?

"You have legions at your command, and not just among those of this world. The faerie-folk are on your side as well. Your friends stretch across the world, from the edge of this forest to the mists of the Isle of Avalon; countless armies, full of the finest and most chivalrous knights in history. Never again will great men like these be known until the Lord calls the dead to heaven in the end times. These are the true golden years of men: they will be remembered for generations to come; they will be as a golden summer in the midst of grey winters."

Gawain grinned suddenly at his uncle. "And do not forget, you have me at your side. May God keep us in hope allied, hearts united as the kindred blood courses through our veins. Arthur and Gawain! Greater evils than Mordred have fled before our names. Now, let us hasten home! Let us ride westward before Mordred has time to collect loyalties and solidify his grip on the throne of Britain."

Legolas fumed as he ran softly back through the trees to where Tauriel waited at the forest's edge. While he had expected his father's response, it still infuriated him. Thranduil's command had been to let the mortals pass through the forest unharmed. The king hoped that if the elves left the men alone, they would not find the citadel of the elves and would not cause trouble within the forest. When Legolas had protested the orders, Thranduil had dismissed him, sending him back to the border to relate the orders.

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

"What news?" Tauriel asked as Legolas stopped beside her.

"We are to ignore them," Legolas spat. "They are to be allowed to pass through our land unharmed in the hopes that they will not discover the citadel."

Tauriel remained quiet and watched the men gathered outside the forest. "Look," she said suddenly. "They are moving."

"Yes," Legolas scowled at the men. They watched for several long moments before the reality of what they were seeing struck them.

"Are they…"

"Moving west," Legolas finished Tauriel's question. "They are not going to enter the forest."

"Well, that solves that problem," she smiled.

Legolas continued to frown as he watched the army depart. "For now," he murmured. "But they will be back. Men are always looking for a fight."


End file.
